


A Fun Disguise and Bittersweet Lies

by kayceeaych



Series: Commonwealth vs. Sole [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Character Development, Dark Past, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Sex, Multi, Nightmares, Poetry, Sex Games, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:36:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayceeaych/pseuds/kayceeaych
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is this man that lies outright,<br/>with glasses that are dark as night?<br/>Is he here or is he there?<br/>A cunning, flighty debonair.<br/>But he's not everything he seems;<br/>Demons haunt his inner dreams.<br/>Find him.<br/>Go!<br/>You cannot fail.<br/>You'll find him on the Freedom Trail.<br/>Deacon/F!SS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Renegade

**Author's Note:**

> Deacon: (v) – to falsify something, to doctor or change it.  
> (v) - To pack (something) so that the nicest looking pieces are on the outside.  
> (n) – (in churches) an elected/appointed officer that has various duties.  
> Source: dictionary.com  
> There are many more definitions than these; I only put the relevant ones. It is interesting that the word deacon has so many different meanings that vary widely from one another, just like Deacon’s personality. This will be my darkest fic. I love Deacon; his darkness intrigues me.

**Chapter 1: Renegade**

Deacon. The night was black and cold as sharp icy pellets of unforgiving rain stung against Sole’s skin as she ran. Her lungs fiercely burned and her legs were screaming at her to stop.

_I’ll be where the red line ends._

_Sorry._

_This is goodbye, my friend._

The note left on her bedside repeated over and over in her head. It had been written with care on a small piece of parchment paper. It was a warning. How could it possibly have gotten so bad? Was he so far gone that he could no longer be reached?

The rain pelted down harder. Grey and thick, the misty veil obscured anything but a few feet in front of her. The roaring wall of water created a bedlam that drowned out her footsteps, her pants, and her calls. But right now, she didn’t give a damn about any of that. She ran. As if following the Freedom Trail already wasn’t hard enough, now she was in a race against time. Every time Sole stumbled over a pile of debris, she let out a slew of profanities. Even if he could hear her as she screamed his name, she couldn’t hear anything else but the deafening crash of rain.

It seemed like only yesterday that Deacon was trying to convince her that he was a synth. Sugarcoating his lies with humor was his specialty. In reality, he did all of that because he hated himself. She knew his past haunted him. Many times she had woken up to the sounds of Deacon’s pacing, insomnia plaguing him. The eyes of a man staring at him as he burned on a pyre highlighted his violent past.

He was a pathological liar. This, she knew. To others, he was a laid-back and amusing individual. But really? He didn’t even know who he was. He had been lying for so long that he had lost himself along the way.

Deacon was like the joker in a deck of cards. He was a leaf that the breeze carried. He was a shapeshifter, a master key. He was the jack of all trades but a master of none. The more he tried to be like someone the less of him he became.

Terror squeezed Sole’s heart the closer she got to the Railroad. Deacon couldn’t do this. He couldn’t throw away everything he had worked towards. An unseen pothole threw Sole off her balance as she wobbled forward, trying to catch herself before she fell. Another dip in the uneven pavement sent her sprawled to the asphalt. This road was too old; a weary relic of times long gone.

Sole panted heavily, lungs demanding more oxygen than she could breathe. Her hair clung to her face and droplets of water weighed down her lashes. Staggering to her feet, a stinging burn spread across her knees and hands presumably from the fall she had sustained.

“What am I doing here?” She whispered to herself, staring at the thin scrapes of blood on her palms. Fatigued in every muscle, she pushed on.

She didn’t have any time to waste, pondering. All she knew was that she needed to get to Deacon before he did something he would regret. Only about two more miles. Her mind reeled as she ran as to where it all went wrong.

He had confided in her his darkest secrets! Told her about his lost love and past delinquency. She thought they had moved all past that. He told her that she was the only one that got him, but was this just another lie? She wanted to believe in him. How naïve she was. The tendency to believe in the good things was human nature. The pursuit of happiness was a fundamental right. What Deacon was about to do would only cause him pain.

Even after their bonding talks, when Sole had thought everything had gotten better, Deacon continued to say some cryptic things. Occasionally amongst the jokes, he would throw in some pessimistic philosophical notion that would make her wonder. Looking back, she kicked herself for brushing it aside. Deacon was far too smart for his own good. He was one of the very few people she knew that could distance himself from an issue and look at the big picture. But being that smart was a double-edged sword.

One particular comment came into mind that one night they had lain side by side under the stars:

“One day the Railroad’s number will be up. I thought that day had come at the Switchboard. I can’t shake the feeling we’re living on borrowed time.” He had said. At the time she had no idea what he had meant. Now, as she dashed madly through the rain and mud, everything was falling into place.

There it was! The Old North Church looked just as dismal and gray as the rest of its surroundings. The only thing was, there were two gen-2 synths guarding the entrance. Shit, she was probably too late. Charging right at them, she took the synths by surprise and put a bullet in each of their heads with her pistol before either of them could raise their own.

She yanked open the door. Everything she did was rushed. At least it was dry inside. She hoped with every fiber in her body it wasn’t too late. Worst case scenario, she would be shot on sight right as she found the walls of the Railroad headquarters painted with the blood of their massacre.

Round the corner, through the door, the green lanterns would light the way. She remembered this dungeon well. Run, run, run. Around the pillar, through the hall, down the corridor, damn it all.

Then suddenly…she was there. And so was he.

Sole called out his name.

Right at the entrance to the puzzle lock, two figures turned around. Deacon, on the right, his somber face was obscured by his glasses and his white shirt clung tightly to his skin. He stood listlessly, like an abandoned puppy. But he wasn’t alone. To the left of him stood a woman, a thin little thing, with long brown ringlets hanging from her head. She had big brown doe eyes that looked so blankly at Sole under beautifully long eyelashes. The courser uniform she wore looked out of place on her tiny body. Sole’s breath hitched.

“Barbara.”


	2. The Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have played FO4 multiple times then you are probably aware of all the stalking locations Deacon can be found at and were most likely oblivious to him following you your first run through. There are very interesting theories revolving him. Kudos to AbilityDrain’s video on YouTube: ‘Deacon Theory | What does he know?’ It aided me immensely in getting all of the facts straight.
> 
> First time writing smut. If it sucks, please let me know. I need to practice this shit.

**Chapter 2: The Fool**

Caws filled the sky in the high afternoon as salmon-colored clouds streaked the sky. Deacon sat at a Railroad lookout post on a hill, the white Railroad symbol for ally painted on the side. How long had he been waiting here? Hours? Days? Months? He had forgotten. All he knew was that _soon_ it would happen. He had been chasing this ghost for years.

In the near distance, the metallic screeching and the cranking of pulleys snapped him to attention. Mechanisms that had not been used for hundreds of years strained in their awakened state. He pulled out his binoculars and leaned forward in his chair. Was it time? Was it really time?

He adjusted the focus on his device. The massive gear-shaped elevator to Vault 111 slowly crept to the surface. A woman in blue fell to her knees. Deacon watched her electric blue vault suit with the golden ‘111’ painted on the back scramble to wobbly knees. Absolutely dazed and confused, she was a living memory of the times long gone. She was like a character from a story that had been pulled into a different world.

Deacon grinned, pumping his fist in absolute elation. This was it! She was the ticket to everything he had been looking for; the only hope for the Commonwealth, the only one who could take down the Institute, the Sole Survivor of Vault 111’s cryogenic chambers. He continued to watch as she stumbled down the beaten path of the vault towards Sanctuary Hills.”

“Hello, Code-name Wanderer.”

\--

BZZT!

Bright white lights blinded Sole’s vision. She recoiled as her eyes strained to adjust to the previously dark room. A woman’s silhouette came into focus, flanked by a man and woman with big guns.

“Stop right there!” The central figure commanded. Blinking hard, Sole saw that she had brushed auburn hear and wore a Burberry scarf with a utilitarian outfit that covered everything but her pale arms and face. The woman continued, “You went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting. But before we go any further, answer my questions. Who the hell are you?” Her voice was searing with suspicion.

Slightly irritated at this rude greeting Sole replied, “Why don’t you tell me who you are first?” She had no reason to trust them either, why should she have to show her cards first?

“In a world full of suspicion, treachery, and hunters – we’re the synths’ only friends. We’re the Railroad. So answer my question.” She explained. So this is what Sole was looking for huh? Not exactly what she expected.

“I followed the Freedom Trail, looking for the Railroad. I’m not your enemy” Sole informed, holding up her hands in forfeit.

Guns still trained on Sole, the woman gave her a half smile, “If that’s true, you have nothing to fear.” Something told Sole that wasn’t going to be true. The woman lowered her voice again, “Who told you how to contact us?”

Man this woman was not going to cut her any slack. What a prick. Sole glared at her as she thought of some bullshit she could spoon feed her.

“I helped Karl out of a jam. He knows a guy who knows a guy, and they hooked me up with a lead” She made up.

An attractive man with jet black hair in a white shirt and sunglasses came into view as he started walking towards the fiasco.

“We’ll look into it” the woman’s assertive voice brought Sole attention back to her. “I’m Desdemona, and I’m the leader of the Railroad. And you are?”

The man, now next to this Desdemona, propped up an elbow on her shoulder like she was an old pal, easing the tension of the situation. Desdemona shifted her gaze towards this sudden intruder.

“Deacon, where have you been?” She inquired.

Deacon gave her a cheesy smile and started using his hands as explanations, “You’re having a party. What gives with my invitation?” He cajoled in a whimsical manner.

Shrugging her shoulder away from him Desdemona narrowed her gaze at him. “I need intel. Who is this?”

Deacon propped up his arms on his hips, “Wow! News flash, boss, this lady is kind of a big deal out there.” Sole tensed up. What was he talking about? How did this man know her? She was pretty sure she had never met him before. Her first impression of him was that he was either a lackadaisical joker or an evil genius.

She decided to roll with it. “Glad someone finally noticed” she smirked.

Deacon let out an airy laugh, his attention focusing in on her. He continued, “You know, you’re practically famous. The Railroad owes you a crate, hell a truckload, of Nuka-Cola for what you did to Kellogg. He was our public enemy number one.”

“Thanks I-”

“Aaand as if that wasn’t enough, you saved Amelia Stockton from those maniacs at Covenant. That earns you points in my book.” He interrupted. “Dez, seriously, you haven’t heard of her? She’s the leader of the Minutemen. It seems like the whole Commonwealth if flying her flag.”

“Oh stop, I-“

“Aaaand as if that wasn’t enough, you’re the Good Samaritan. Helping out that little ghoul boy, Billy. Not many people would do that. Does the Silver Shroud mean anything to you? I heard she took out Sinjin’s gang all by herself. Pretty remarkable, huh?” He continued to gush to Desdemona. She stood there skeptically.

“What the hell you-”

“Aaaaand as if that wasn’t enough, Nick Valentine was in a jam, as usual. But word is you bailed him out. And talked your way past Skinny Malone, too. She’s the one rebuilding Sanctuary Hills with the Minutemen.”

“You-you’ve been stalking me?!” Sole cried incredulously. Sole covered her body with her hands as if this maniac could somehow see straight through her.

The two ignored her as Desdemona raised her eyebrows up at Deacon. “So… you’re vouching for her?”

Deacon nodded happily, “yes. Trust me, she’s someone we want on our side.”

“That changes things. So stranger, why did you want to meet with us, anyway?” Desdomona asked, directing her question at Sole.

“I’ve have a-”

“Aaand she is in possession of a Courser chip. Killed it all by herself” Deacon interrupted again.

Desdemona’s brows shot straight to her hairline in surprise. Goddammit, there go her cards.

“You’re saying this intruder actually killed a Courser? Single-handedly? That’d give even Glory a run for her money” Desdemona enthused, sounding impressed.

Sole narrowed her eyes at Deacon, reluctant to speak just to be interrupted again. She opened her mouth when,

“If you’re done interrogating her, you might want to show this Courser-murdering machine a little courtesy. Just a thought” Deacon’s mouth turned into a great big smile. Ass. He was playing with her.

This apparently was enough to convince Desdemona for she turned back to Sole and said, “I owe you an apology. Anyone who kills a Courser is good in my book.”

Sole gave her a twisted smile, “Oh yeah, the little riddles and the decoder ring trick REALLY makes it hard to find you” she joked sarcastically.

“Anyone that wants to meet us is under surveillance as soon as they follow the Freedom Trail. If you were a threat to our organization, all you’d find her is an empty room.” Desdemona informed, mouth hardening into a straight line, clearly peeved at Sole’s making light of the situation.

Deacon looked startled, “Dez, we need to let her in! She’s got an intact Courser chip, for god’s sake!”

“That violates our security protocols.” She shot back at him.

“To hell with that! She killed a Courser! There’s _no way_ she’s working for the Institute.” He emphasized as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

They whispered something to each other. Desdemona stepped off the platform and approached Sole, who straightened up. “We’re letting you into our headquarters. You’re the first outsider ever to be given this privilege. We’ll discuss the details about your chip inside” she begrudgingly stated through grit teeth. “I need to ask you one question. The only question that matters, would you risk your life for a synth?” She leaned in.

A sweat drop rolled down Sole’s neck as she swallowed, “I risk my life for people every day. Makes no difference to me if it’s a human or a synth.”

“Well said” she responded. Then she turned on her heel and retreated to the corridor at the other end of the room. Geez-o, this woman was going to be a hassle. “See Deacon for details” she called over her shoulder.

Sole was suddenly aware of the sunglasses maniac standing next to her. When the heck did he get there? She didn’t even notice him! When their eyes met, he flashed her a cheesy grin.

“Hope you didn’t mind the reception. When you tango with the Institute, you got to be careful when someone new gets on the dance floor.”

Sole shrugged, “yeah I guess so. Your leader was just being cautious.” She chose her words carefully. How much did this guy exactly know anyway?

“Exactly! Kind of killed our chance at a friendly first impression, though. But it’s all good now. I vouched for you. Nobody got shot. Still, I would consider it a close personal favor if you didn’t sell us out to the Institute. Thanks.”

“Soo tell me, why did you vouch for me?”

“In our little outfit, it’s my job to know things. And with everything you’ve done it’s clear you’re capable. A dangerous enemy. And, I’m betting, a valuable ally” he explained.

Something was still…off about it all and the situation didn’t sit quite right with Sole. His non-committal bravado only made her more suspicious. He was skilled with words, there was no doubt. Sole painted a picture in her mind of all the people’s questions he had waved away with his whimsy.

“But why the trust? You can’t be taking it all on faith.” She probed. If this was a game, she could play too. She stepped up closer to him, popping out her hip, crossing her arms, and lowering her gaze to look at him from under her lashes. Game on.

Deacon smirked as he looked at her posture but obligingly answered, “I don’t know if we can trust you, but I hope we can. We just survived a hell of a crisis. So we may be just a _teeny, weeny_ bit desperate for new members.” He squished his fingers at the emphasis. “If everything was sunshine and bottle caps, we’d probably play a longer ‘getting to know you’ game. But we don’t have that luxury.”

Not enough. Sole’s intuition told her there was something else he was hiding. She had gotten this far trusting her instinct. She took a step closer to Deacon. They were now only about a foot away from each other, close enough to wear they could feel the heat radiating off each other’s bodies.

“Really? Is that all?” she asked in her motherly voice she had been practicing to use on Shaun if he ever brought home some girl from high school. Sad she never got to use it until now. Oh well.

Deacon licked his lips, taking in their closeness. He let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh, “You just don’t give up. All right, I have a short list of people I think would be a good fit for our family. You piqued my interest, so maybe I asked around. Did my homework. If you hadn’t found us, there’s a chance I would’ve found you, instead. Thanks for saving me the trip.”

He cupped a hand on the upper part of her arm, and tweaked his head to the side. Although she couldn’t see his eyes, she could just _tell_ he was winking. Then he walked off towards the direction Desdemona left in. The warm feeling of his hand lingered on Sole’s arm.

Oh he was good.

\--

“You were dressed as a bodyguard when I heard Hancock’s speech in Goodneighbor?” Sole inquired.

“Nope. Drink up.” Deacon laughed.

The two were sitting across from one another at a small round table in an abandoned shack they found during one of their many adventures. It was so cramped in the room, there was barely enough room for the two of them. The glow of the lantern danced across Deacon’s glasses as he cheered Sole on while she downed another shot of Bobrov’s Best Moonshine. She winced at the sharpness. She had been carrying it around for a special occasion, and when Deacon cleared out the whole place just for her to “sleep like the wrong princess on a pea,” then she knew that this was the perfect time to whip it out.

“Piss. Then where were you?”

“I was posing as a drifter that day. Walked right by me, didn’t even notice. You’re not really that good with faces, you know that?”

Diamond City security, Goodneighbor drifter, the memory den stowaway, and Bunker Hill caravan worker were just some of the many disguises Deacon had assumed as he stalked her across the Commonwealth. Had this been another time, Sole would have definitely filed a restraining order on his ass, but now it was just curious. The more she got to know him, the more she realized that everything he did had a reason. This pathological liar covered his tracks so well that Sole had to backtrack on his words and cross-check them for reality.

“Ugh Deacon, why are you so obsessed with me?” Sole mused, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Because you’re soooo cute” he kid in a girly voice with a sickeningly obvious flirtation fan of his face. She laughed.

“Ha ha you ass. My turn. When is my birthday?” She probed, leaning towards him on her folded hands.

Deacon mimicked her behavior, “February 15, 2047.” He responded. “Drink.”

Her face fell, “Oh come on! How could you possibly know that?” She groaned, “You’re just cheating at this point!”

Deacon chuckled at her exasperation as she took another swig of moonshine. “Give it up boss, I know everything about you: your name, where you grew up, your third grade teacher, your mother’s middle name, even the color of your panties you’re wearing right now.”

Her face flushed as she brought her hands straight down to her crotch “Bullshit!” she accused, more trying to convince herself.

He chuckled harder as he took a compensatory chug of the drink “Nah, you mumbled it in your sleep and I know your age, so I did the math.”

Sole smized at him and extended a hand out towards his face, tickling the ginger stubble on his chin with her thumb and forefinger.

“It’s so hot when you’re being creepy” she flirted sarcastically.

He took her hand in his and placed a swift kiss on her fingers, “And momma said my charm was wasted on me.”

They returned their hands to the table as they sat in a comfortable silence, looking out the window to the blanket of stars in the sky. She didn’t let his flirts get the best of her. He flirted with everyone. Sometimes they flirted back, like Cait, Piper, and Hancock, but others like Danse were utterly appalled at his forwardness, leading to quite the amusing exchange of dialogue and sniggers. One time, he had even backed a very uncomfortable MacCready up to a wall, who squirmed to get out of the situation. He and Sole had howled with laughter about it later as they sat on the slanted roof of her old house at Sanctuary Hills. When Sole was a lawyer, she was trained in the practice of psychology, particularly on how to read people’s behaviors. Deacon spread his affection so thin that to her, it was obvious he held no love for any of them. He always kept himself at a distance. Let people get close enough, but pushed away when they got too close. Defensiveness. He was covered in a shroud of mystery, even now, and she had spent months traveling with him!

Deacon broke the silence, “Hey, I got something important to say.” He said it with such an awkward intonation that Sole’s face contorted in an obvious confusion for a second. She nodded for him to continue.

“I really appreciate you putting up with my bullshit. Truth is, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a…friend.” He let out a short sigh and fiddled nervously with his bottle of moonshine. Sole tipped the bottom of the bottle to get him to drink. He did, and then continued, “I’m a liar. Everyone knows it. I make no secret of it. Because the truth is: I’m a fraud. To my core.”

Deacon turned his face away from the bottle and down to the side, as if disgusted with himself. Sole remained silent.

“When I was young, a hell of a long time ago, I was… well, scum. I was a bigot. A very… violent bigot.”

The air got so dark between them at his pause. “Go on,” she gently encouraged him.

“I ran with a gang in University Point. We called ourselves the UP Deathclaws. For kicks, we’d terrorize anyone that we thought was a synth. We kept egging each other on. Started with some property damage graduated to some beat downs. Then, inevitably, a lynching. The Claw’s leader was convinced we’d finally found and killed a synth. Looking back, I’m not so sure.”

Sole’s eyes widened. Deacon? Mr. I’m-against-violence? She was about to laugh, but the flicker of the flame from the lantern reflected against the serious creases in his face, so she stopped herself.

“You killed someone?” She asked, trying not to sound judgmental.

“That one was enough for me. It was his eyes… Those eyes haunt me. Bulging.” His face contorted with pain as he grabbed his bottle of moonshine and chugged down a few hearty gulps. Trying to erase the pain probably. When he finished he slammed the bottle down and continued, “So I turned by back on my ‘brothers’ – broke all contact. Time passed, I became a farmer, if you can believe that. Then one day I found someone. She saw something in me I didn’t know was there. Barbara, well, she was…She just was.”

Sole suddenly felt awkward. He had such a sad smile, she felt guilty for ever having lewd thoughts about him. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she let them drop to her lap as Deacon reminisced about his past.

“What was she like?” It was the only thing Sole could think of asking.

The smile he gave! A genuine smile! The kind you only see when someone looks at someone they truly love. He had never given anyone that kind of smile. Sole felt a tiny pang of jealously.

“She had a smile like on those old magazine covers. Her eyes… We were trying for kids, eking out a living. Then one day… It turns out my Barbara… She was a synth.” He paused. “She didn’t know that. I certainly didn’t. I don’t know how the Deathclaws found out. But… there was blood.”

“So they killed her?”

“Yes.” Deacon balled his fist on the table. “I don’t remember much clearly after that. I know I killed most of the Claws. I must’ve made a big impression. The Railroad contacted me, figuring I’d be sympathetic, seeing that I lost my wife. And, well, what I did afterwards.”

“The Railroad let you in? Even though you were in the Deathclaws?” Sole asked incredulously, thinking back to the harsh interrogation Desdemona gave her when she had _offered_ to help them.

Deacon shrugged, “So many years had passed that I don’t think anyone, well except the Claws, knew that. All they knew is someone fought back. I don’t even know why I lie any more. But I can’t tell the truth. Everyone – Tom, Dez, you, even that asshole Carrington – they deserve to be in the Railroad. I don’t. I’m everything wrong with this whole fucking Commonwealth. You’re the only friend I got. I don’t deserve you being OK with this.”

Sole stood up. She felt the need to hold him. He was revealing a side to him that he hid from everyone else. There was so much grief on his face that she just wanted to take it all away. She scooted her chair right up against his and sat back down, her thigh pressing up against his leg.

Deacon continued, “Hell, I’m not even asking for it. But I figured you should know.”

Sole placed a hand on his upper back and rubbed in small circles. She didn’t really know how to console someone. The proper words to say to someone in a delicate situation always seemed to escape her. She just knew that she had to be there for him, “That’s a lot to process.”

He let out a humorless laugh, “I can imagine. Listen, you must be wondering, ‘Hey, is Deacon messing with my head? Again? But even if you don’t believe anything else, know that you’re my friend. Maybe my only one. So. Good talk.” He shifted away from Sole, trying to escape. It was the only thing he knew how to do.

Before he could, Sole grabbed him by the back of his head and forced his face towards her. Then she kissed him. It was a chaste, comforting kind of kiss. In the blink of an eye, Sole swiveled herself around to face him, straddling his legs between her thighs. Deacon must have been surprised because his mouth dropped at her sudden forwardness. She took the advantage, plunging her mouth onto his.

Maybe it was because they had just shared an emotional moment, but when Deacon finally wrapped his head around the situation, he kissed back with equally fervid intensity. When she finally plopped her hips down on his, he grunted.

Grabbing her by the arms, he lifted her up and shoved her up against the wall. In doing so, Sole bonked her head on the low hanging ceiling. Damn this tiny shack! Deacon broke their embrace to place a quick kiss on her head, and then dug his fingers into her hipbones. Her body filled with want.

Sole tilted her head to the side and let out a groan as Deacon’s lips nipped at her artery. It suddenly felt too hot in there. Grabbing at his shirt, she quickly stripped it off him and tossed it to the side.

Deacon panted and thrust his hips against Sole’s. She hadn’t noticed how excited he was. That was fast. She grinned to herself; he wanted her! Noticing how he was fiddling with her armor straps, she helped him slip them off her. Then his lips were everywhere, nipping at her neck, trailing across her collarbone and back up to passionately envelop hers. Their tongues danced dangerously in each other’s mouths as their shallowed breathing synchronized. Sole reached up to rip off his sunglasses. The table was only a foot or so away from them so she tossed them in that direction.

Shadowed blue eyes bore into hers, darkened with lust. Sole grabbed Deacon’s torso and flipped their positions. He grunted as his back hit the wall. Within seconds they were back on each other, hips grinding, hands feeling, divulging in the feeling of their heat on one another.

With a swift movement, Deacon slid his hand down to cup her ass, pulling her into him, while the other unzipped the backside of her blue vault suit. Shrugging off the top half, she smiled as Deacon let out a shuddering breath at the sight of her ripe curves.

Sole gasped as he ghosted a hand over her pert nipples. Cupping both of her breasts, he thumbed her nubs in slow circles, kneading her soft flesh. She shivered. Dipping her hands into the waistline of his pants, she traced idle circles on the soft skin just above his heat.

“Fuck. Sole.” He breathed.

Then she grabbed his throbbing cock and started pumping with her hands. Deacon’s face contorted in pure pleasure as he threw his head back. His breathing picked up the quicker she went. His hands dug into the fresh of her waist, gripping for dear life. Bringing her head to the crook of his neck, she chuckled against his skin.

Deacon apparently had it with the teasing for he yanked Sole’s hands out of his pants and twisted them back around so she was on the wall. He pushed his body up against Sole’s as he reached a hand down between them to clamp her heat. Sole threw her head back at the electrifying touch. Circling her clit through the fabric of her vault suit, he pinned her to the wall, as to prevent her legs from giving out on her. The room spun like an amusement park ride.

“Deacon…” she managed to squeak out, “Fuck. Deacon, stop teasing.”

“You’re one to talk missy” he retorted as his lips overtook hers once again, tongue exploring her mouth in a hot, wet fervor. That was it. Pushing his hand off her, she stepped out of her vault suit and panties and kicked it aside with her foot. She looked back at him and bit her lip, eyes ever telling.

Hands were everywhere, feeling everything, as if they couldn’t get enough of each other. Then that’s when Deacon stealthily slid his long fingers down and into her slick heat. She gasped his name. With his other hand, he grasped the roots of her hair and pulled her hair back, letting her gasps escape outward, into the night air. With his other hand, he continued pumping, faster, and faster, until she saw stars. When he introduced his thumb back to her clit, she called out his name.

“Deacon! Fuck. Please.” That was the most coherent thing she could manage under this exhilarating stimulation.

It was if that his was his cue as he released her momentarily to strip off his pants and caught her before she collapsed under her wobbly legs. His skin was so hot to the touch. She glossed her hands greedily over the taut muscles of his lean body as he grinded himself against her. The skin to skin contact was almost unbearably pleasurable.

Sole hiked her leg up around his waist in silent communication for him to continue. He obliged. Removing his hand, he entered her slowly, allowing her to adjust to his length. It had been a while since Sole had engaged in sexual intercourse. Technically it had been… over 210 years. Hah. But in all seriousness, Nate had been her last. They used to share so many passionate moments, but after he was drafted, she never got to see much of him. In fact, he had just gotten back from deployment when the bomb went off. They never even got a chance to touch each other.

Funny. It all seemed like so long ago now, as she screamed another man’s name while he thrust into her.

“Fuuuuck, you’re so tight. Am I popping your post-war cherry?” Deacon attempted as a joke, burying himself into Sole. He delighted in the view of her bouncing breasts in front of him.

“Sh-shut up. Go faster.” Sole commanded.

“Yes boss” he replied as his thrusts came in quicker, harder intensities. His hand slid down from her head to cup the ass of her raised leg as he held her against him with his forearm. It was only moments after that that Deacon blurted, “I’m coming!”

“Ah, me too!” she mimicked.

Deacon’s free hand shot back down to her clit, rubbing her right to the edge of orgasm as they both felt the surge of pleasure take hold of their senses. He quickly detached himself from Sole as he came on her chest. Fuck, she was pretty.

Panting, Deacon fell backwards onto the chair behind him as Sole slid down to the ground. The two took a moment to recollect their breaths, along with their senses. Sole, recovering quicker than he did, began recollecting her suit and armor, gathering it all in her arms. Using her hand, she began wiping off his fluids from her chest. Once she had finished that, she began stepping into her vault suit in order to zip it up when Deacon extended an arm out to her.

“Shirt please” he asked in an adorably cute voice. Sole chuckled as she threw it at his head. He tried to stand, failed, and fell back down to the chair. “Nope, I need another minute here. Deacon is down for the count.”

Sole searched around for the dirty mattress they had seen earlier, lying against the outside wall, and brought it in to the smallest space left behind the table. She plopped down on her back with a relieved sigh.

“Ahhh, that felt great. I’ll be…yeah, I’ll be over here. Whenever you decide to join me” she mumbled, closing her eyes. Limbs extending outwards, she listened to the sounds of the night and fabric move as Deacon dressed himself.

“Ehhh 7 out of 10” he snickered.

“Ass.”

Sole almost drifted off to sleep when she felt a hand reach across her tummy. The warmth of a body pushed itself up against her side as the hand continued to coil around her, pulling her close. Turning towards Deacon, she snaked a leg in-between his and snuggled herself up against his torso. He was so warm. Her chest swelled with affection at this little action. She had never thought of cuddling with Deacon before. It was…nice.

What a wild night that had been. Sole was left to her thoughts as they both silently drifted into a slumber. Deacon’s breaths became heavier. As she lifted a hand to his face a pang of guilt rose in her heart. She suddenly realized that she had basically taken advantage of his weakness after he had just talked about his dead wife. What kind of scum was she? She made a mental note to apologize to him later. Deacon fascened Sole into a tighter embrace as he murmured in his sleep. It was so cute, she kissed his forehead.

“Good night Deacon,” she whispered.

He muttered some more unknown syllables. The only coherent thing she could make out of his string of slurs was “Barbara.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘The Fool’ is a card used in divinity indicating the very beginning of everything. He symbolizes the trickster that balances on the edge of a cliff with his dog that follows him blindly. This card means that you must take a leap of faith, putting in all your trust that you make it.
> 
> While I do NOT believe in divination, I think the cards are still fun in a symbolic aspect and I will be using them to title my chapters from now on.


	3. The Magician

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This card shows a magician that is bringing things from the surreal/psychological world into the real world. You must be aware of what you bring into this world and what you give to others. You have to walk the talk.  
> I totally imagine Summer Glau as Barbara.

**Chapter 3: The Magician**

The stale air hung around them as Sole stared at Barbara and Deacon illuminated by the dim green glow of lanterns. Water dripped down her face and onto the floor. The tension could have been cut with a knife.

Barbara nodded to Deacon who was staring at her for a cue. He turned around to work on the password. Then, like in slow motion, the beautiful, petite, and lethal girl turned towards Sole. Before Sole could even react, Barbara rushed her, plunging an electrically changed knife into her stomach. Sharp pain shot all the way up to her spine. The force of impact was so strong, it knocked Sole back several feet into a wall which came collapsing down on her. Rubble crumbled on top of her fallen figure. The courser may look like a deer but hit like a truck. When she tried to get up, her muscles contracted, forcing her down. Damn, that new melee weapon electro-technology was really intense.

The grinding of stone slabs paused.

That’s right. She had to get up. This was a fight she could not lose. If Deacon finished that sequence, every single person in the Railroad would be slaughtered. This monster would tear through them like a deathclaw. Barbara stood there with her electric knives, eyes unblinking, face cautious, yet emotionless. She was the Institute’s new killing machine.

Sole pushed the bricks off her stomach and legs and forced herself to stand. Molten lava poured through her veins in retaliation. What a convincing new technique. If you underestimated her then you would die. This new wave of coursers was something else.

Perhaps if she never would have told Father about Deacon then everything would be different.

But she did.

\--

Revealing your cards too early can cost you the game.

Sole learned this the hard way. When she first found Shaun, her baby, he was no longer a child but a man whose life she had no part of. Instinctively, she trusted him. The invisible tether between mother and child bound them in a way no one else could understand. She thought that if she opened up to him, that if he was truly her flesh and blood, then he would understand her point of view.

She was naïve.

Sole’s world had already been torn apart by war before. Now she was plunged into this new world, on the brink of war again; a multi-faction conflict that would bring the Commonwealth to its knees. It was almost a sign that this was the difference she needed to make. Killing wouldn’t solve anything. For months, she sought out ways to ingratiate herself to the different factions, becoming trusted members of their communities. She thought that if she could find a way to get the Minutemen, the Railroad, the Brotherhood of Steel, AND the Institute to work together, then maybe this world could prove it was different.

But it wasn’t the world that needed changing. It was the people.

Father saw her prestigious positions as advantageous and took an unnaturally strong interest in them. She became his first-hand informant. How could she have known that her own son would manipulate her into giving him all the information he needed to destroy the heart of every faction on the surface? He was her son. He wasn’t supposed to be like that. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Everything seemed to be going so smoothly. First the courser, X6-88, was gifted as a companion to watch over her in the Commonwealth. Then, the room, given to her so that she could be watched more, every night. Finally, the announcement that she would be the next director, the embodiment of all the Institutes ideals, forever remaining in the Institute. She should’ve seen it as a sign that things were spiraling downwards, but she didn’t.

So she told him everything. How funny that the player could become the played. She thought that if she could convince Father what good people the leaders of the Railroad are, then he could find some compromise between the two factions. What she didn’t know was that he was taking their good qualities as a sign of their weakness. She would find out soon enough.

But most of all, she regretted telling Father about Deacon. Deacon, her most beloved and trusted friend. Her humorous and dark companion who had a silver tongue of lies. The way he made her feel alive again. His whimsy. His unpredictability. His vulnerability.

Father wanted to make sure his mother was safe, that much was true. He wanted to make sure that the one who was supposed to protect and help her was doing their job. He wanted to know if this Deacon was weak and if that could become a liability. She assured him of his efficiency in combat and sublime skills of persuasion. He was slow to trust, but when he opened up he was like the first bloom in spring. The outer shell of deceit hid such a sensitive individual that Sole felt the need to protect him from this world that he was already doing fine in. She wanted to make things better for him. She wanted to make him happy.

The only thing that would make Deacon weak was Barbara. A faded memory that shook him to the core of his being so much that he closed himself off to people. She was the singular turning point in which Deacon turned to the Railroad, deciding that synths needed to be saved.

Father believed that he could be tipped the other way as well.

Sole didn’t even think that the Institute would keep a record of every synth ever made; she found this out later. Records had a DNA profile, a psychological assessment, and a designation number. When Father approached Sole with the idea to take down the Railroad she flat out refused. It was completely against what she believed in! How did he not understand that violence would only lead to unnecessary bloodshed?

But he didn’t need her approval to embark on his plan. He just needed Robotics.

What Father brought Sole down to see Designation B1-82, she was struck with awe. In an all-white synth uniform stood the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. Soft eyelashes hung on her innocent eyes, which stared back at Sole curiously. Long hair that brushed down to her waist was a style that Sole had not seen since pre-war. She was the embodiment of everything that was considered pretty in the olden days: small lips, youthful appearance, long hair, thin petite frame. When Father informed her that this girl was to become a courser, she was taken aback. Female coursers were unheard of. This little girl looked like she couldn’t harm a bloatfly.

How wrong she was.

Sole didn’t actually know that B1-82 was Barbara at first. Father never mentioned it. He just conveniently let Sole take her to the surface so that she could see what it was like. Coursers needed to see the surface for themselves after all. She was impressionable and in awe of the bleak new world of the surface. Still curious, still childish.

How Sole wished with every fiber in her being that she had not brought her to meet Deacon.

Designation B1-82 did not remember her previous life. Her memory chip started anew from when she was remade in Robotics. She had no knowledge of her role in this play that had commenced. To her, she was just going to meet a trusted friend to the mother of the Institute.

Time froze when Deacon walked out. Maybe it was when he dropped to his knees at the sight of her; something in Sole just _knew_ that this was Barbara. Everything started falling into place, like an incredibly fucked up jigsaw puzzle. Barbara was the last piece you put in before stepping back and realizing that the picture on the puzzle was the Institute standing atop the other fallen factions. The one that had put this puzzle together was Sole, all at the request of Father.

She was a pawn.


End file.
